A lifetime of emotion may pass in a minute; a life's fate hangs upon the balance of a stroke of time. It was only for a moment that they looked into each other's eyes in silence, but that moment meant so much to each of them! It was the horse that broke the spell by attempting to rise again. With a slight movement of the hand Leycester Wyndward forced him down, and then slid from the saddle and stood at Stella's feet, hat in hand. Even then he paused as if afraid, lest a word should cause the vision to vanish into thin air; but at last he opened his lips. "I beg your pardon." That was all. Four words only, and words that one hears daily; words that have almost lost their import from too familiar commonplace, and yet, as he said them, they sounded so entirely, so earnestly, so intensely significant and full of meaning that all the commonplace drifted from them, and they conveyed to the listener's ear a real and eager prayer for forgiveness; so real and earnest that to have passed them by with the conventional smile and bow would have been an insult, and impossible. But it was not only the words and the tone, but the voice that thrilled through Stella's soul, and seemed to wake an echoing chord. The picture which had so awed her had been dumb and voiceless; but now it seemed as if it had spoken even as it had smiled, and for a moment she felt a woman's desire to shut out the sound, as she had shut out the smiling eyes. It was the maidenly impulse of self-protection, against what evil she did not know or dream. "I beg your pardon," he said again, his voice deep and musical, his eyes raised to hers. "I am afraid I frightened you. I thought I was alone here. Will you forgive me?" Stella looked down at him, and a faint color stole into her cheeks. "It is I who should beg pardon; I am not frightened, but your horse was--and by me?" He half glanced at the horse standing quiet enough now, with its bridle over his arm. "He is an idiot!" he said, quickly; "an obstinate idiot, and incapable of fear. It was mere pretense." "For which you punished him," said Stella, with a quick smile. He looked up at her, and slowly there came into his eyes and his lips that smile of which Mr. Etheridge had spoken, and which Stella had foreseen. "You are afraid I am going to whip him again?" "Yes," she said, with simple directness. He looked at her with a curious smile. "You are right," he said; "I was. There are times when he requires a little correction; to-night is one of them. We have not seen each other for some little time, and he has forgotten who is master. But I shall not forget your 'No,' and will spare the whip; are you satisfied?"